


Dark Debt

by uglywombat



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Au Carol Danvers, Biker Carol Danvers, Biker Themes, Dubious Consent, Edging, F/F, Forced Cohabitation, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Forced Tattoo, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Vaginal Fingering, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24029461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: The cost of a debt runs deep in a small town in Arizona ruled by an outlaw motorcycle club. Carol Danvers, a fearless member, has a keen interest in you and your father's debt to the club only serves as the perfect opportunity for her to pounce.
Relationships: Carol Danvers x You, Carol Danvers/Original Character(s), Carol Danvers/Reader, Carol Danvers/You, carol danvers x reader
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103





	1. Property of Carol Danvers

**Author's Note:**

> The first chapter was originally just intended to be a one shot for a challenge on Tumblr however it ballooned into something else! I hope you enjoy it x

The clubhouse was blazing hot with the summer swelter and sin. Scantily clad women gyrated on leathered men, desperate to feed off of their power and dangerous auras. **  
**

You were a sheep amongst wolves, a lamb brought to the slaughter in your little cotton summer dress and ballet flats, your skin already crawling with sweat and embarrassment as heated eyes trail over your body. Ripened fruit for the taking by big burly men seemingly untouchable by the law.

You shouldn’t be here. You don’t belong here. However, your pride came second to the outstanding debt your father had with the club. A debt you were not in a position to help him pay off financially, instead, you had offered to work for the club, monitoring the books and helping with the bar. Your sacrifice had saved your father from his limboing fate at the end of a Glock.

However, it wasn’t the heated stares from the club’s men that put you on edge. It was the dark hazel eyes in the dark corner pinned to your every move that precipitated the icy chill down your spine.

Carol Danvers was one of a few female club members and one of their most feared. She was ruthless and cunning. The possessive hand on your waist the first time she had come into your father’s bakery was hard to forget, the memory etched on your brain like a brand.

You could barely move through the small town without being under her watchful eye. And then your sweet naive father had all but handed you to her on a silver platter when he failed to pay his dues to the club.

Little caresses, brushing her nose against your neck to scent you constantly… you could not escape her. Your world entirely revolved around the club and their needs, the weight of your father’s debt a constant weight on your shoulders. You loved him dearly and would do anything to protect him.

Even if it meant putting yourself in the path of Carol Danvers.

The noise and heat in the room and the pressure of those piercing eyes following your every step was all too much, and you sought refuge in the cooler air outside. Leaning against the wall you raised your face to the sky to see the dark night sky painted with stars.

For the first time that day, you felt like you could breathe. You greedily sucked in the cool night air as the familiar little bubble of sadness crept into your chest.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

You shuddered, closing your eyes as the sound of gravel crunching under heavy boots draws closer. Frazzled, you pull yourself away from the wall and submissively hang your head as a drunk Peter Parker runs his fingers over your cheek. “Yes, Peter.”

“You’re so pretty.” You can smell the cheap alcohol on his breath and despite his youth, you know Peter has a propensity to anger quickly. “Why are you out here all by yourself?”

“I wanted some fresh air.” Your voice was small and timid as you forced yourself to look up at the handsome young man. “I’m sorry, I’ll go back in.”

“Don’t apologise, baby,” he cooed, stepping closer to your frozen body. “Come dance with me.”

You knew better than to argue, already well aware of what happened to girls who said no to club members. You allowed his hand to swallow yours and pull you back inside the suffocating clubhouse and onto the dance floor.

His hand had not even clutched your waist, pulling you taut against body before you felt steel eyes grasp onto you. Peter ground his crotch against you, his hands gripping your waist and back as the cold rush of fear washed over you.

You could feel the anger and jealousy seeping and evolving in the dark corner. You could see the tension mounting in the fine line of her jaw, the taut definition in the muscle in her neck, even in the darkness.

Peter was oblivious, his lithe hand slowly descending your back and over the globe of your ass. Your heart was caught in your chest mid-beat, the hairs on your arm standing up as his fingers began to creep up under your skirt.

“Parker.” Her voice cut through the air like a sharp knife, instantly killing the mood. “She’s mine.” You flinched as Carol lay her hand over the exposed skin of your shoulder, her musky scent overwhelming your senses.

“Oh come on, Danvers,” Peter’s voice cracked as he tried to maintain his cool facade, “we were just having a bit of fun.”

A chuckle from the couch beside you made your stomach drop. President of the club, Steve Rogers smirked darkly as his eyes locked on yours. “I think Parker here needs to learn that he shouldn’t touch what isn’t his. Maybe, Danvers should lay her claim on this sweet little doll so everyone learns that she is off-limits.”

Your knees go weak as the crowd laughs and cheers and a slim hand cups your cheek drawing your attention to the blonde.

“ **I’ve wanted to fuck you all night** ,” Carol drawled in your ear as the crowd around you hushed. “Actually, I’ve wanted to fuck you since the day I walked into that bakery.” The fingers on your shoulder trailed down over your exposed arms before linking your fingers together and turning you to face her. “You’re going to be a good girl and do as you’re told, aren’t you?” Her thumb caressed over the tears careening down your cheeks and you nod.

Her tongue caresses yours softly as she kisses you, the lingering taste of cheap scotch dancing along your tongue. Carol is gentle, her hands tenderly exploring your body, and for a moment you forget you are in a room full of people you are indebted to.

You dare not fight her as she tears open the flimsy cotton dress you had scraped and saved for from the small vintage shop in town. You had lusted over this dress for months. You gasped as the dress hit the floor beneath you, buttons scattered around you.

Your lip wobbled as you looked back up to the beautiful blonde, her eyes hungrily trailing over your lacy white panties and bra.

“You are like a sweet little doll,” Carol cooed, drawing a long lithe finger down between your breasts. “So sweet just for me. Only for me.”

The lingering heat in the air did little to placate the cool rush down your spine and the way your skin flushed with goosebumps under her touch. Hazel eyes darkened as your chest rose with your rapid breathing, your breasts pressing up against the confines of your lacy bra.

Her lips, teeth and tongue explored your skin as you clung tightly onto her cropped t-shirt, your knees buckling as a surge of adrenalin hit you. Her chuckle was breathy, tickling your skin as she lathed your overheated body.

“You’re going to look so pretty with my brand tattooed on your arm, baby. Going to show the world you belong to me.”

You did not like the idea of belonging to the formidable biker, how could you? You were not a possession to be owned. You would never be free from the club, even after your father’s debt would be paid off.

“You don’t have much of a view there, Parker,” Steve barked, his eyes painstakingly watching Carol’s hands pull the cheap bra from your chest and cup your breasts in her large but dainty hands. “Get your ass over here.”

It’s sobering being painfully aware that the young man who had groped you not long before was being forced to sit beside the club’s president as Carol’s fingers inched closer to your dampening panties. You should not be enjoying this, being a puppet in a fucked up performance for the crowd, however, the warmth of her lips on your skin and lips was intoxicating.

You focused your attention on the freckles dotted on Carol’s cheeks, ignoring the chants and whispers around the room as the club members watched on intently. You were attracted to Carol; she was absolutely beautiful, intensely smart and powerful. Under any circumstance, you would give your left arm to be with her. However, you could not forget the obsessive and possessive gaze or dominating hands.

As her hands tore the flimsy cheap panties from your hips, you imagined yourselves in another time far away from the dank, run-down clubhouse.

The back of a movie theatre, tucked up in your own bed, even under the stars with a fire crackling nearby. When that failed, with the roar of your captive audience cheering on their sister-in-arms, you thought of the smell of the beach and the delicate scent of pinewood damp from the rain.

But you couldn’t pull yourself from reality, try as you might. Especially, when long lithe fingers slowly caressed your swollen damp lips between your legs.

“Oh baby,” Carol cooed condescendingly, her chuckle dark earning a chorus of laughs, “you’re absolutely drenched. You want this so bad, don’t you?”

Shame soared through your veins and you felt your skin flush under the weight of eyes watching you intently. Glancing down between your bodies, you spied her glistening fingers before they delved to the entrance of your channel.

“Is that for me or for Peter?”

“You Carol.” Your voice was small and withdrawn, and you couldn’t miss the satisfaction in the sinister smirk on her face as your confession sank.

Your fingers sank into the delicate skin of her shoulders as she slowly drew her finger into your pussy, dragging her nails along your hypersensitive walls and your wail reverberated through the aged room. 

“ **You’re so fucking tight** ,” the blonde chuckled against your ear, her eyes locked on Peter whose face painted a picture of embarrassment and defeat as you buried your face against her T-shirt. “No, baby, let him see your face when you come on my fingers. I want him to see who you really belong to.”

You took a breath for courage before lifting your head away from the blonde’s shoulder and tightening your grip on her shoulders. You bit your lip as her thumb began to dance over your clit, and her other hand held a tight grip on your neck.

“That feels good, doesn’t it? You’ve wasted so much time hiding from me and pretending you don’t see the way I look at you when it could have been like this all along.” Her voice was warm and slick as her eyes locked on yours. “Don’t worry, baby, I’m only a little mad but I’m not going to punish you. You’re just scared, aren’t you? Sweet, innocent little thing afraid to give in to the deep dark desires she’s been told all her life to shun.”

Your eyebrows knotted with fear and you dared to glance at the Steve on the couch, the dark glint present in his eye. You had never told a soul of your desires towards women, fearful of the backlash you would face from your strictly religious family. “I’ve never told anyone,” you managed to stutter as you felt the overpowering bubble of warmth begin its blossoming in your core.

“I found your diary, baby. It’s okay. We’re your family now and we won’t judge you like that nasty little prudish family of yours.”

You flushed hotly at the thought of Carol reading your deepest and darkest fantasies. It was ammunition you knew she would more than happily hold against you.

As her finger brushed and teased your g-spot, you could feel the swell of your orgasm coming, and you bit your lip to dampen down the ever-increasing chorus of white noise and sobs echoing through the room. You had never been touched like this by anyone, let alone by someone with a lot of experience.

“That’s it, baby, show Peter who you belong to.”

It was the chord that shattered, your wail ringing through the room as you clamped tightly on her finger and came hard. Carol wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed you as you rode the waves of your soul-destroying orgasm. You held on tightly, all too aware that you would draw blood if you squeezed too tightly.

You were vaguely aware of the applause and cheers. You could barely register Carol gripping your hand and pulling you towards the couch whilst Steve called out for Drax to bring over the tattoo gun.

“No, please Carol,” you begged as you struggled against her but she was too strong. It did not take much for the woman to hold you down as Drax methodically tattooed Property of Carol Danvers on your forearm in a beautiful cursive font. Her fingers incessantly brushed the tears cascading down your cheeks as you begged and begged for it to stop.

The party raged on around you as Drax finished the tattoo and wrapped your arm.

Peter had not moved from his position on the couch, his eyes glued to you as Carol soothes you, kissing your neck.

“I told you she was mine, Parker. Touch her again and I will kill you myself.”


	2. Tick Tick Boom

“Four members of the notorious motorcycle club, The Avengers have been arrested early this morning in the small Arizona town, including club President Steve Rogers. Guns and drugs, with a street value into the millions, were seized in the raid. The Deputy Mayor is calling for the public to come forward with any information…”

As the cracked deluge finally gave in to the oncoming flood of tears, you could barely feel the tightening in your chest. You were barely cognizant of your knees buckling underneath you as you collapsed to the floor, watching Steve being escorted out of the clubhouse, vice-president Bucky trailing behind him, cuffed. 

The pain in your knee, the slicing of your delicate skin against the shattered plate beneath you didn’t register as you sobbed uncontrollably. 

Had Carol been arrested? Would your father’s debt now be forgotten by the club now they would be drowning in new legal woes? Would you be free of Carol?

The breath caught in your chest. Did you want to be free of Carol?

You could still vividly remember the night the beautiful club member had claimed you as her own in front of her brothers-in-arms, stripping you to nothing and tearing you apart before them. Your forearm still bore the tattoo she had forced upon your skin,  **_Property of Carol Danvers_ ** , forever solidifying her control of you. 

Since that hot night, you had called the small, quaint trailer home, no longer working in the club’s bar to pay off your father’s debt. Instead, you were at the beck and call of the statuesque blonde beauty. Carol consumed your world and over the months you had slowly moved through the stages of grief, succumbing to your new reality. 

Always acquiescent and quick to follow commands, slowly but surely you had started to see some good in Carol. She was wickedly funny and incredibly smart, but she also knew how to make you smile. Or perhaps you were building a wall around the dangerous thorns of her soul, creating a mirage to make believe that this wasn’t all bad. Either way, you’d begun to fall for the woman keeping you for herself.

Later that night, Drax found you huddled on the ground, blindly watching the tv as the news played on the old television and the sun began its descent over the desert landscape and the air turning frigid. 

“Come on, sweetheart, we got to go.” 

***********************************

_ The soft, pillowy descent of lips on your naked back draws you from the warm, dreamy sleep. The setting sun streams through the trailer’s wide window, painting the white bedsheets in balmy Titian orange. Peering out the window and past the towering cacti, the sky is tinted tangerine, sunflower yellow and plummy purple. Heavenly.  _

_ “Wake up, princess.” Carol’s voice vibrates against your muscles as you languidly stretch out like a cat, your body tired from your late afternoon siesta. “Did you have a good nap?” _

_ You hum in response, resting your head back onto your folded arms and closing your eyes, basking in the warmth of the setting sun. The sharp tap on your bare ass pulls your eyes open and you can’t help the thick mewl cresting over your lips as Carol’s tongue lathes your flushed skin in tandem with curious hands.  _

_ “Did you miss me?” _

_ Two months ago your initial reaction would have been to lie through your teeth, praying she wouldn’t see through your beguiling shot at protecting your father from the compressing grip of his debt to the motorcycle gang. Your conscripted relationship with Carol was the only thing standing between your sweet, desperate father and the barrel of a gun.  _

_ But now, your apostate body and heart, shattered and ashen at the pit of your ribcage, are naught but a wanton string waiting to be played by the blonde beauty. Your life has been torn from the sweet, safe place of the bakery; your world once revolving around the calming science of creaming butter and sugar, marrying flour, water and yeast.  _

_ Now, when your weak, defeated body could bear it, you would lose yourself in the magic of kneading bread in Carol’s tiny kitchen. You will stand for hours, drowning in the memories of helping your mother and father bake as a small child, the sweet but distant scent of lemon and vanilla in the air as you monotonously massage and make the soft, pillowy mixture silky and doughy.  _

_ If you are not baking or obsessively cleaning the small, cramped trailer you will sit in the window and stare out into the void of the desert. In the beginning, you would wonder how long you could survive without food and water, with no escape from the heat of the sun in the vast dry surroundings before you would eventually perish. Escape is not an option, you could not endure the endless pain of being the hand in your father’s demise.  _

_ So you eventually cracked; shattering into fine, terminal dust. Malleable and submissive to the woman who scarred you with her branding. _

_ “I missed you.”  _

_ “So pretty.” You sigh under her adulation and praise, as lithe fingers ghost over the swell of your breast. “Turn over for me baby, I want to see all of you.” _

_ You can taste the faint residue of weed and beer on her tongue as she kisses you languidly, urging you to turn onto your back. Warm chestnut eyes meet yours as a hand lock your wrists above your head.  _

_ “How was your day?”  _

_ The domesticity of her question rolls over you like warm water, where once it would grate on you like glass. “Cooked. Cleaned. Watched TV,” you mewl lightly as her tongue lathes up the line of your neck to your earlobe. “Same old.” Her teeth latch on to the soft tissue of your ear as her hand squeezes your wrists, a gentle reminder to focus on your conversation. “How was your meeting?” _

_ “Same old,” the older woman teases with an aggerated dull tone. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all pretty and naked in my bed, covered in my marks.” Plump lips pepper the dark bite marks on your collar bone, neck and breasts. “Keep your arms there, princess.” _

_ Obediently, basking in the warmth of the setting sun with your hands resting on the pillow above your head, you watch on as Carol slinks off the bed. It dawns on you that she was wearing naught but the leather cut, proudly adorned with the club’s patches.  _

_ She returns to the bed with a sly smirk on her face and in her hands is the most beautiful silk scarf you had ever seen. Carol smiles warmly as your eyes widen at the sight of the expensive delicate fabric. You can’t help but giggle as the soft silk tickle your neck and breasts, the beautiful blonde straddling your waist and teasing the edge of the scarf over you. Your eyes light up as you recognize the vintage floral print.  _

_ “I know, baby, it’s the scarf you’d been eyeing up. I saw you standing in front of the window shop drooling over it on your way home from work.”  _

_ Heat rises to the warm surface of your skin as Carol draws her finger over your face, leading a path down your chest to the apex of your thighs. The fact that it had been months since you had stepped into town is forgotten under the soft caress of her fingers.  _

_ “Do you trust me?” _

_ Two months ago, perhaps even less, you would have bottled up the ebullient rage and falsely prayed at her feet. Purportedly gifting your trust and faith to the dangerous biker, squeezing your eyes shut tight as she ravaged you.  _

_ “I trust you.” _

_ The toothy smile warms the pit of your ash-filled chest, the life you had let her set alight and burn dampens as more of your being is filled with Carol’s vortex.  _

_ You lose yourself in the heady scent of leather, weed, smoke and the musk of her skin as she gently weaves the silk around your wrists, locking you to the metal bed frame.  _

_ The afternoon sun dances on the honey of her skin covered with little specks of sand twinkling in the warm light as she cages you to the bed. _

_ “You have me all worked up, princess, after your little performance this morning. Waking up all greedy and desperate for Daddy’s fingers to fill you. You’ve tortured me all day with your needy little mewls and cries following me everywhere I went, your scent lingering on my fingers all day.” Her eyes are dark and dangerous, taunting you from above. “Maybe I should make you feel the aching misery I’ve had to endure all day.” _

_ Despite the still warm light streaming through the window, your skin shudders at her threat, goosebumps rising.  _

_ “I could leave you tied up and stuffed with a vibrator, I wouldn’t need to watch a movie to be entertained.” Carol chuckles as you shiver, her fingers ghosting over your stomach. “No, I really need to make you suffer like I’ve had to today. I want you to cry and beg until you’re hoarse before I even consider letting you come.” _

_ You know better than to plead and beg for her not to. Carol is the principle player in this game, her game, holding all the pieces. The master manipulator of the forever evolving rules.  _

_ You dare not struggle too hard against the delicate binding of the silk as Carol lazily laps at your folds like a cat licking cream. Her soft hum vibrates in tune with her tongue as she teases. The sun has all but set, your thighs trembling as the tip of her tongue stills at the base of your needy nub. _

_ When the stars have started their nightly waltz in the dark sky you’re a quivering, tearing mess when her tongue finally teases past your lips, dragging along the soft cushion of your walls.  _

_ You have begged and pleaded for what seems like an eternity. Tears rolling over your cheeks, the sheets damp on either side of your face as she fucks you with her tongue languidly. Coaxing you to the ledge before drawing you back, edging you to a cusp and never allowing you to peak or fall.  _

_ Your pathetic attempts to win her over earn you a breathy chuckle, the light brush of air over your swollen and sensitive clit torturous.  _

_ Carol draws herself back over your body, kissing you greedily, her chin coated with your glossy, heady juices. “Poor baby. You’re so desperate to come, aren’t you?” Her thumb draws over the line of tears rolling over your cheeks. “God, seeing you cry so pretty really turns me on.”  _

_ You gasp as she pushes two long fingers deep into your weeping channel, the obscene sound of your arousal against her fingers washing you with embarrassment. Her movements are slow and exact, the pad of her finger lightly dragging over your g-spot with precision. Your eyes instantly flutter, your lashes heavy from your tears. _

_ A pointed push on your pillowy cushion of tissue and your cry is destitute, your chest rattling as the flurry of tears come again, your vision blurred. God, you need that sweet release more than you had wanted anything in this life.  _

**_“I love it when you roll your eyes back like that.”_ **

_ You have been the game piece played like this before, edged for hours, but your diminishing silent fight and the building urge for her touch… you are about to explode. _

_ The tight bind of the silk pinches the delicate skin of your wrists as you falter in your hold, Carol scissoring her fingers forcefully.  _

_ “I’ve thought about this all day,” Carol coos as she watches you intently, almond eyes peeling back each fragile layer of dermis. Decorticating skin and tissue to reveal the frail, frangible soul deep inside. “I’m never letting you go, baby. No matter what.” _

_ Whatever minuscule grasp you had on your reserve of control cracks as she draws her fingers from your molten centre and forces them into your mouth. Sweet and tart swirling along your tongue as she coats your mouth with your own slick.  _

_ With a pop, Carol draws her fingers from your mouth before running her tongue over them.  _

_ “You’re going to come now, sweetheart, and I want to hear you thank me.” _

_ Before you can nod or agree or consider her threat, Carol is lying between your legs and furiously lapping at your taut and hypersensitive clit. The delicate silk snaps at your wrists as Carol grips your hips and pulls you closer to her. _

_ The small trailer is replete with the symphony of your forlorn cries and begging to come. The harmony of exaggerated sounds of Carol’s tongue dragging over your spit covered clit and heavenly groans. _

_ Everything goes white and the crushing roar in your ears overtakes everything as your orgasm tears through your body. It is blinding and paralysing, Carol immobilizing you to the bed with her hands as her tongue doesn’t let up on your clit.  _

_ When you finally regain some minuscule modicum of reality, Carol is still lapping at your folds, watching you intently through a thick brush of eyelashes. A dark, throaty chuckle reverberates through the room as she moves to straddle your face.  _

_ “Such a pretty princess when you do as you are told.” The veiled dark tone to her voice is so thick it hung heavy in the air as she brushes her hand over your hair. “What do you say, baby?” _

_ “Thank you, Daddy.” _

*************************

Drax held you close in the back of the truck, your body numb and mind so fuzzy you barely notice Clint glancing in the rearview mirror every few minutes. You failed to see the tight grip Drax’s monstrous fingers had on the dainty glock in his hand.

Clint drove for hours and you drifted in and out of sleep, undisturbed by the smooth road of the highway and the blanket of twinkling stars in the dark night sky. 

Your dreams were haunted with images of Carol laying beaten and bloody on the floor, the barrel of a gun trained on her from afar. Vivid visions of thick, crimson blood pooling on a cold concrete ground, tart and copper. 

The dusty highway lit only by the headlights of the old truck and the starry night above, Clint didn’t stop until he pulled up into an abandoned gas station. Still groggy from your disturbed sleep and terrible dreams, you allowed Drax to pull you out of the truck, the desert air bitterly cold. Your heart lurched as Carol appeared from the shadows dressed in jeans and a ratty band shirt. 

The beautiful blonde smiled warmly before drawing you into her arms. You choked back a sob as you burrowed into the musky scent of her shirt, instantly finding comfort in the warmth of her body and strength in her hold. Relief set in instantly and you held on tightly.

“Hey baby,” she cooed warmly, kissing the top of your head gently. “Thanks for bringing her boys. I couldn’t risk the Feds coming for her.”

“No problem boss,” Drax said with his usual warm, lethargic deep tone. “Where are you headed?”

“Mexico until this blows over. The lawyers have the burner phones...”

Your heart raced, the erratic beating drowning out the calm voices around you. You had so many questions but you dared not interrupt or speak, the raging flow of adrenaline coursing through your body so overwhelming. Holding on to her thin body for dear life, she ushered you over to an aging truck and into the musty cabin.

Carol drove in silence, her eyes fixated on the road ahead and behind, ever cautious of passing cars. Her grip on your thigh was firm but comforting. You were still coming to grips with the battling degrees of emotions in your heart and mind. You longed to be back in the small town you had grown up in with your father and yet you couldn’t deny the alleviation of being back in Carol’s presence.

Nothing was said between you both until long after Carol had parked the old truck off of the highway, following a dirt track onto what looked like an abandoned property. You could feel her pulse racing against your skin as you sat in silence, her hand clutching your thigh. 

“You cut yourself, baby.”

You looked down at your knees, “I’m sorry, I broke a plate…” and giggled manically taking the blonde biker by surprise before disintegrating into a flood of tears. You barely recognised the warm hands soothing your hair as you sobbed uncontrollably onto her lap, ignoring the seat belt digging into your side.

“I was so scared, I thought you weren’t going to come back,” you confessed weepily, your hands desperately clutching at her. “I saw the news… Steve… the handcuffs...”

Carol hushed you gently as she gently coaxed your face up to look at her, pressing her lips to yours in an effort to calm and placate your fears. “Ssshhh it’s okay baby, I promised I would never leave you. We just need to lay low for a while until the club’s lawyers can get the charges dropped. We are going to stay here tonight and then someone is going to pick us up tomorrow night and drop us over the border.”

Your lip trembled as her words sunk in. “But my dad…”

“No baby,” Carol said firmly, her hands caging your face gently, “as long as you’re mine he’s safe, okay? I love you.”

Your heart simultaneously tugged and dropped, her chocolate eyes locked firmly on yours. “I love you,” you whispered, the words pulled from your lips before you could stop yourself.

Before you could process your confession, Carol’s hand was pulling on the lever to pull the chair back and the other dragging you to straddle her lap. Her strength still to this day took you by surprise and you found your gasp silenced by her needy mouth. 

It took little effort for her lithe fingers to pull the thin t-shirt from your body, your skin and nipples pebbling in the deeply cold night air. Her tongue explored yours as her hands cupped your breasts, the taste of cheap bourbon lingering in her mouth. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around her neck submissively and leaned into her hands.

Pouty lips trailed the skin on your neck as her hands moved to the zip of your cheap jeans, slowly dragging the metal down.

“Always such a good girl for daddy,” Carol crooned huskily as her hand delved underneath the tight jeans material and the other gripped your neck, “forgetting to put underwear on.” Her chuckle vibrated against your neck as you mewled needily, her fingers delving between your slickened folds. “Always so needy for your daddy, aren’t you baby?” 

You could only nod your head furiously, desperate to feel the grounding emotions of feeling her fingers deep inside you. The calming and peaceful wash of emotions as she held her fingers still inside your soaked channel. “Please daddy, I missed you.”

Your howl ripped through your chest as she drew her hand from your needy lips and gripped your face, pulling you into a heady kiss. 

“I know baby, I missed you too. Take off your jeans and I will make it all go away.”

Awkwardly, you shifted your knees onto the edge of the seat and pushed your jeans down over your hips. Your eyes locked onto Carol’s as she mimicked your movements, both desperate to feel the comfort and warmth of each other’s skin.

The world stilled, the unrelenting storm of anxiety and noise in your head ceasing its rambunctious song as Carol pulled you back onto her lap and drew her fingers into your sopping pussy. They danced slowly, exploring you as you slowly moved with her, your hands locked in her hair.

Your kiss was heady, your mewls and soft cries muffled as she expertly plucked the orgasm from you by surprise, your body quivering as you were overcome. 

“That’s my baby, give Daddy what she needs.”

The seat reclined as you drew yourself down into the footwell, nuzzling along her thighs as you ascended her soft skin. You lapped obediently at her clit as her hands gripped at your scalp. Lost in the heady scent of her arousal, you drank your fill, desperate to feel the quake of her taut muscles against your face. It was rare that you were given the chance to pleasure the dominant blonde who was usually content in bringing herself off. This was a gift. 

Carol came with a deafening cry, her fingers clenching at your scalp with vigour as her thighs ripples against your face. 

Dressed warmly with some clothes in the back of the truck, you lay on the rusty apple green bed looking up at the speckling stars above, cocooned under a blanket, holding each other.

“When this is all done,” Carol said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I’m going to buy us a house. And we are going to get a cat that we are going to call Moose. We are going to start fresh. You can bake in a bakery or you can stay at home. You could go to school if you want.”

Your heart surged with warmth and you looked to the stunning blonde, her arm your soft pillow. “Really? What about my dad?”

Carol sighed, steering the conversation away from the topic of your father as she always did, “You changed me, my little love. I want to be better. For you.”

You weren’t sure you believed her. Her loyalties were cemented to the club and always would be. You weren’t sure you could crack the thick wall around your heart enough to trust her, but if it meant keeping your father safe you would do anything in your power.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your eyes trained on the starry painting above. 

“You are mine. Always.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is always welcomed x


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